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Chapter Text

NED

Ned Leeds was Parker's best friend, from what he could tell. Parker only ever talked about him, and some girl named MJ, who sounded very intimidating. He dropped by every time he visited Peter, which was often.

The day they met was a nice one.

Delmar was scribbling down an order for a number 5, (which always reminded him of Parker) when the doorbell rang, and a boy walked in. He was large, but that didn't change the way he lit up the small shop, and had short dark brown hair and eyes. He was quick, despite what most people thought, and he headed straight towards the candy section.

The man smiled. The only reasons teens came in here was for coffee or junk food.

The kid grabbed a bag of chocolate chips, sour straps, and gummy worms, then walked with a small skip to the cash register.

“So...is junk the only thing you kids get around here?

The kid shuffled on his two feet as he looked up with a small smile.

“Well, sir-”

“Call me Marcus ,”

“Okay. Um well you see Mr. Marcus , I'm going to my friends house and we're going to have a Brooklyn Nine-Nine marathon and make cookies so I thought I’d buy some supplies.”

He chuckled loudly, a rough laugh that sounded like sandpaper and warmth at the same time.

“Alright then. That's $5, chico.”

Ned smile widened, his face flushing with excitement.

“You know Spanish! That is so cool! I have a friend, Peter, he's the one I'm visiting right now, he's really good at Spanish. Mainly because his tìa is Italian but-”

Marcus cut him off in confusion.

“Peter? Peter Parker? You know the kid?”

Ned looked to the right, left, right, left again then back at Delmar with suspicion.

“Um, yea, I do . Why do you?”

“That kid? Always comes and orders a number 5, asks for it flat, then comes over to the corner and pets Murphy, that angry little cat over there. I'm assuming you're Ned Leeds?”

Ned raised an eyebrow.

“How do you know? You're real creepy man- no offense sir!”

He rolled his eyes. Of course this kid would be a copy of Parker.

“Well, you're all he talks about here. Along with a girl named MJ.”

Ned’s face brightened.

“Really?! Oh yea, Michelle was intimidating at first, called us losers; still does, but now she's our friend, I think!”

Marcus shook his head lightly. Dorks .

“Alright kid, you got your things, you should probably go watch your movie.”

Ned walked to the corner, and looked at Murphy, pet him, scratched his ears, then turned to him.

“Bye Mr. Delmar sir! See you soon!”

“See you later, kid.”

And as Ned walked to the door, Marcus chuckled.

Peter and Ned were a perfect match.

Chapter Text

MICHELLE JONES

It was a late Saturday, and Michelle was running. She had stayed late to help with the latest fundraiser, and she had freaked out. Her thoughts were so loud , so was her breathing, and she felt the pedestal holding her heart up crack some more from the weight of everything. God, everything was too much and nothing was too little and she thought she could have a good week but she guesses that she didn't deserve it.

So she ran.

She was shocked when she heard a bell dingle above her and found herself in front of a convenience store near Peter.

Delmar .

She walked in, mainly on impulse, and stared at the tired looking man near the counter.

“Hey there chica , you look like you should be at home, huh?”

Michelle glared- then burst into tears.

No no no stupid you can't break down like this in front of a stranger. Jones don't freaking cry. Stop. Stop.

Right away, the man came closer, only stopping three feet away. Concern dug into his features, and she hated having people care. She'll just bring them down with her. This is why she didn't want to tell anyone about her depression. It sucked.

So she turned around to walk out. That's when a hand on her wrist stopped her.

“It's not safe for you to be outside alone, let alone at night. Do you have someone I can call?”

Michelle glared at the ground, cursing herself for being so stupid.

She shook her head.

“I can't think of anyone right now.”

The man's eyes softened.

“That's alright kid . Stay here until you think of someone.”

She looked up at him.

“I can fight , you know,” she said as her voice cracked with sadness. “I'll be fine on a subway.”

He gave her a smile.

“Sure you can little lady, but I'm assuming you're not from around here, and it would take a while for you to get back home. It's better to be safe than sorry,” he shook his head. “I can take you home, I just need to close up the shop and-”

“Don't,” she said with a sigh. “There might be someone I can call.”

She scrolled through her contacts as she thought about the dignity she was giving away. Scrolled some more. Than clicked call.

The phone rang for a couple of seconds, then someone picked up.

“Hey loser, I need you to pick me up.”

On the other end, the person sounded worried.

“What's wrong? Are you okay? Should I get the-”

“No, just come as quick as you can.”

She looked at Delmar, tears gone, replaced with red rimmed eyes and a nonchalant face then nodded.

“My ride will be here soon. Thanks for letting me crash, even if it was for a little bit. Gracias, anciaño .”

Marcus smiled at her.

“No problem, chica. Come visit at any time.”

They stared at each other, both daring the other to break it. None of them did.

Instead, the ring of the bell did. Michelle turned around, and was met with a kid, hood covering his face. She walked towards him, and stopped before she left the door.

She whispered something into his ear, gave Delmar finger guns, and walked out.

After she left, the kid looked up and waved at him. “Bye Mr. Delmar sir,” Peter said with a small smile. “See you soon!”

And that's when Delmars jaw dropped, and he swore he was done with the world.

Chapter Text

BUCKY BARNES

There was a man that came sometimes. His cap was always low on his face, his dark brown hair stuck to the side of his sharp jawline, guarding his personal space, like curtains draping shut, blocking you from seeing the truth.

He only came to buy razors, or oddly, plums. At first, he thought the man shaved a lot. But after the fifth time, His assumptions got darker. He confirmed it the next time the man came.

It was really early in the morning, near 5 am, and Delmar was sleeping on the counter.

All of a sudden, he heard hard knocking on the door, and he was a light sleeper, so he shot right up. There, in front of the door, dressed in sweats and a hoodie, was the man he was so worried about.

He had stumbled up to the glass door and unlocked it as fast as he could, nodding at the man to let him in.

The first thing he noticed was heavy breathing, like crying ?

The second thing was the blood.

As he went to grab the mans hand and lead him into an empty room, he heard a whisper.

As he listened closer, the same word was repeated again and again.

“James.”

Delmar had a sliver of a smile.

“Your name is James?”

The man nodded.

“Alright, well James, can you wait here while I get a first aid kit?”

Another nod.

As Delmar went looking for the bright red box, he sighed. What the hell?

There was blood on his hands from where he had grabbed his hand, so he wiped it on his jeans as his stomach plummeted to the floor with nerves.

This is out of his control and the guy needs serious help. He's old enough so he probably knows what he's doing is harmful, but he doesn't look like he's getting better.

As he was thinking, he pulled the box from the third row on one of the shelves, and walked back to James.

“Hey, do you mind sitting down on that chair so I can clean this up?” Delmar hoped this wouldn't be too hard.

Thankfully, the man cooperated and sat down on a spare chair.

Delmar did the same, then unzipped the kit and took out the bandaids.

“Alright,” he said. “You can either tell me what's going on or I can ask you some questions. What would you prefer?”

James looked up, shocked for some reason.

He put his hand flat on his chin and then forward, signing thanks in ASL, since he couldn't find it in him to speak.

Marcus smiled. “You know ASL? I don't know that much but I know the basics. Why are you thanking me?”

This time, a gruff voice answered.

“You gave me a choice. They didn't.”

He was confused. “They? Who's they?”

James shook his head quickly and then stood up abruptly.

“Hey,” Delmar backtracked quickly. “Hey, it's okay, we don't have to talk about it if you don't want to.”

The man relaxed and sat back down.

“But?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“But what?”

James sighed.

“You want to know why I'm doing this.” he winced as he said the next part. “Self-harming, right?”

Marcus gave him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry sir, but I'm worried and I don't want to sell you those razors if they're being used for bad reasons. Besides, I know it's cliche, but you're not alone. Others go through the exact same thing. 1 in 5 adults have a mental illness. I mean, this may come as a shock to you, but there are a lot of people in America.”

At this point, he had cleaned all of his arm with some rubbing alcohol (it was sad to see the plethora of cuts littering both his arms), then proceeded to wrap them with a cast of some sort.

James had snorted at that, then sucked in a breath as his actions truly hit him.

“I was a veteran, you know. Been through a lot. Got brainwashed and captured by a group of scientists. Tortured, all that good stuff. I guess now that its over, it isn't. Habits stick with you, and it's hard not to punish yourself if that's what you grew up to believe I guess. I don't know if that makes sense. I deserve it. Could've done more. I know it's not good for me, but I can't stop. I don't have anything else.” he said the last part with a broken voice.

Delmar quickly but carefully wrapped the rest of the bandage, then looked at the man sadly.

“Do you mind if I- show you something?”

The man shook his head, then offered a comforting smile.

Marcus felt his breath catch in his throat, and he shook as he slowly pulled off his shirt.

James eyes widened at the sight. Multitude of scars littered the man's chest, and all of a sudden, he realized how small the world was.

His eyes watered as the man pulled his shirt back over his head. Then, a small whisper.

“You too?”

“Me too,” Mr Delmar replied with a shudder. “Everyone knows I never went to college; dropped out, but just thinking about it now, I left because I was in a horrible mental state and probably wouldn't have been able to handle much more. Sometimes I still am. I just gotta remind myself that it's nothing to be ashamed of. The brain is an organ too.”

He looked at the man, trying to decipher his emotions through his eyes. They just looked glassy. This is why you don't give people free therapy, idiot .

He thought he majorly screwed up, and opened his mouth to apologize, when he heard the door open. Shoot.

Looking at James apologetically, he walked outside to help the customer. When he saw who it was, he choked.

“Spiderman.”

“Yea sorry, do you have any plums?”

“Why do you need fruit at-” he checked the time. “6am in the morning? And sorry kid, we ran out. Restocking tomorrow.”

At the word kid, the well- kid straightened his back and froze to his spot.

“Kid? Uh please, I'm basically an old man. I mean, yes I haven't been to University yet and I don't know what I'm doing with my life but- wait why am I telling you this? And dang it I really felt like plums,” he said as he slumped forward.

That's when he heard James walk out behind him. And felt something fly past his ear and nearly hit the vigilante in the face. He caught it. It was a nice purple plum.

Spiderman laughed.

“ A plum! Thank you-” he looked up to see who had given it to him and he yelped.

“You're the dude with the metal arm! I'm so sorry I didn't mean to fight you Mr Stark-”

“It's fine. You did good kid. I have to go now, but it was nice meeting you all. I'll see you soon Delmar” He smiled at Marcus and nodded at the kid, then made his way out the door.

That's when they both looked at each other. Spiderman broke the silence first.

“Where did those plums come from? Does he just carry them with him all the time?”

At that, he chuckled.

“You have no idea kid, no idea at all.”

Chapter Text

FLASH THOMPSON

Marcus Delmar usually enjoyed those who walked into his shop. There were the customers that told hilarious jokes, the kind but shy kids with or without parents, the wise ones, and those that were mysterious, who made Delmar want to figure out how they truly were. 

Unfortunately, there was another group of customers.

The troublesome kids.

Today, he overheard one of them talking bad about Parker. Sounds pretty obsessed with the kid for some odd reason.

Goes on about his grades, hair, face, basically anything he could insult the kid with. The man was about to go over and lecture the kid about bullying and whatnot when the kid tensed up.

Strange .

"Um, hey man, my dad is calling, I got to go, you know how he is."

The kid talking to him rolled his eyes, uncaring.

"Yea, alright Flash, whatever, just meet me near the alley at 7."

But the kid, Flash , he recalled, seemed to totally zone out as he answered his dad and winced.

Now, Marcus had a pretty good idea as to what was going on, but he didn't want to assume.

So he observed instead.

"Hey, dad…"

He could hear screaming on the phone, bits and pieces of you were supposed to be home right now and him saying but you never told me that . He heard classic manipulation and I love you, son that would make the kid doubt that these scenarios were so clearly abuse .

The dark purple bruise concealed badly on his cheekbone said otherwise.

Then.

"Is mom going to be here today?"

The answer was not what he wanted it to be, judging by his angry scowl after.

"Oh, she's busy? Again? Business meeting? Okay."

In a fit of pure anger, he hung up.

He froze right after, eyes wide because.

He hung up. On his dad. Who would probably punish him for that.

Delmar didn't want the kid to freak out any longer, so he called him over.

"Hey, kid, who's bad side did you get on?"

The kid, Flash he recalled, tried a futile attempt at a glare.

"None of your business ."

"It is my business if you seem like you're about to commit murder in my shop," he replied smoothly, leaning on the wooden countertop.

The kid raised his chin up in some last stand at keeping his pride.

"Not murder. And if you really cared, you'd leave me alone. Not worth getting caught up in something you'll never win."

Mr Delmar sighed.

"Alright kid, so you telling me that bruise was from some bad folks at school then?"

Flash froze.

"Could be." He mumbled, looking down at his shoes, ones that could only be afforded if luxury was your starting point in the race called life.

"Well, why didn't you put em in their place? Seems like you're a tough kid"

His fingers shook.

"Tougher. Plus no use trying if your gonna lose."

Marcus closed his eyes. He had to say something.

"And is this kid older by a good two decades, owns a business and happens to be a parental figure?"

Flash sneered.

"He's no parental figure. And there's nothing you can do so you shouldn't get yourself involved. My dad could ruin your reputation in 5-10 mins top."

Delmar sighed, and started to walk to the side of the counter.

Flash growled.

"So that's it huh? Pity me and run along?"

Marcus looked at the kid and smiled.

"Is there something amusing about me that you want to say cause I could take that smile off your face in a second."

"I dont think so kid. Give me one second."

Delmar searched around until he came back with a pen and paper. He scribbled down his number and grabbed a sandwich (the number 5, he recalls it being parker's order) and looked at the kid seriously.

"Young man, I know that there isn't much I can do for you, especially seeing as you come from money, and I think messing with your family could cause significant trouble." He handed the kid a bag with the sandwich and placed his card where Flash could see it. "However, I want you to know that if things get bad and you need somewhere to go or someone to call, there's my cell."

The kid gaped at him, speechless.

"What? Do you not like sandwiches?"

Flash finally managed to recover his voice, yet it was quite shaky.

"No- no sir, thank you." He coughed. "I'm fine though."

Delmar gave him a pointed look.

"That's bull and you and I both know it. Stop letting your pride get in the way."

The kid glared at him, but nodded, grabbing the bag and accepting his fate.

"You can leave, no one is forcing you to stay. Besides, sounds like you got plans." Delmar waved his hand towards the door.

Flash turned around, looked back at Marcus, and reached the door.

"Oh and kid."

He looked back at him, hands gripping the doorknob.

"Yea?"

"Stop nagging Parker. You're better than that. Besides, he's a valued customer."

The kid's eyes widened in surprise, and he gave a small shrug as he walked out.

Delmar sighed. Flash had a lot of potential. If only corrupt old men in power weren't such imbeciles.

Chapter Text

It was 8am in the morning. Delmar had just set Murphy near his cat food for the day. 

He was halfway through chugging his morning coffee.

The bell rang, warning him that he better hold his ground among the upcoming ‘ Karen's ' as Peter called it.

“Hey,” a man adorned with sunglasses and a baseball cap squinted at him. “Do you have those- gosh I can not believe I’m being forced to say this- sour gummy worms?”

Delmar choked on his drink.

The man lifted his sunglasses, rubbing his fingers against his temple as if seemingly bored of their interaction already.

“Tony freaking Stark,” Delmar mumbled to himself.

“You should learn to never drink anything around me.”

Marcus glared at him.

“Yes, I do have gummy worms, although I never knew tooth-rotting sour candy was your forte.”

Now that he got a clearer look at him, the man looked distressed?

“Ah,” his fingers tapped against his zipper methodically, “it is actually for the kid I am babysitting, and I am-” he looked at his Stark phone. Typical.  “Late.”

“Give me the bag and I’ll ring you up.”

Delmar was sure he was functioning on pure muscle memory because there is no way he has been able to keep his composure for that long.

Tony walked around the store, and Delmar went to pick up Murphy’s food.

He was vaguely aware of a phone ringing, and panicked whispers, but nothing registered in his head.

Until he heard something- someone smack his new hard floor tiles .

Rushing out from behind the counter, he could see Tony’s chest rising up and down. The hand holding his phone was shaking.

Shoot. Mierda.

He kept muttering.

“No, no, no. ” He yanked at his hoodie strings and shrunk in on himself, uneven breaths falling from his lips.

Man, not another unstable customer. But Delmar would be lying if he said he wasn’t concerned.

“Hey hey hey! Stark, listen to me.”

The man still seemed to be lost in his head.

Delmar apologized internally for what he was about to do, then went behind to counter only to come out a second later with an ice cube.

He held Tony’s hand and shoved the ice into his palms.

The response was almost immediate as his eyes shot open and he tried to pry the ice out, but Delmar kept his hand closed.

“I read somewhere that ice shocks you out of anxiety or panic attacks, judging by the phone, I’m guessing this is an anxiety attack. It works for me,” he explained, vaguely aware that he was sharing a bit more than he would like.

Thankfully, the only response he got was stillness and a stiff nod.

“Can you tell me what that was about?”

Delmar had taken a seat next to the philanthropist at this point, aware of the unhygienic surface they were on.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid kid .” Tony managed to reply, still hyperventilating.

His eyebrows rose.

“Stupid kid?”

“Spiderman,” he wheezed, “had to go get hurt again.”

“He is a kid,” Delmar confirmed.

Tony looked up in surprise before his head dropped again.

“There’s no point in trying to fool you,” he lamented.

“That is true,” Marcus nodded.

“Got shot,” he added.

Murphy came and huddled next to Tony’s arm as if sensing the panic.

Tony’s mouth turned upwards in surprise as he started messing with his fur.

“Oh my gosh, I just saw him a couple weeks ago! He came here to get some plums, is he alright?”

Tony’s eyes crinkled in a tired but fond grin.

“Plums?”

Delmar grinned in relief. If that was the part he focused on, he had a pretty good hunch that the kid was okay.

“Yup, he met a man named James while he was here. He seemed to have extra. That guy may have one real arm, but he is intense.”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say though, because Tony glared at the ceiling, hands taken off Murphy.

“Pepper said he’ll be alright, but I can’t help worrying.”

“Do you have medication?” He asked, deciding to save the sudden conversation change for another time.

“No.”

“Should you be on one?”

“Probably,” he gritted. “Can you stop that? You remind me of a kid I met in Tennessee. Too many questions.”

“Okay,” Marcus laughed. “Can you get up? You might wanna be with your kid.”

“He’s not my kid.”

He raised an eyebrow as if saying yeah, right .

“Yeah, right,” he said.

Tony got up and dusted himself off.

He coughed awkwardly.

“Thanks,” he decided to say. “For helping me with my- anxiety issue.”

“No problem Stark, you're not the only one with an anxiety issue .”

“I  am choosing not to comment on that because feelings are not my forte, but I will be leaving now.”

He stalked towards the door and had almost made it when Marcus stopped him.

"Stark."

Tony looked back.

He held up the sour gummies in his hand, before tossing them over.

Tony caught it in one hand.

Impressive .

“Let me pay for that,” he started as his hands made their way towards his wallet.

“No.” At Tony’s raised eyebrow, he sighed. “Free of charge, since it’s for the Spider Kid.”

Tony glared mockingly.

“No way, Delmar. I don’t know if you forgot, but there is only one billionaire here, and that is not  you.”

“Stark, if you do not leave right now I will ban you from this shop.”

Gaping, and admitting defeat- but smiling to himself? Tony walked out of the store, looking better than when he walked in.

He went to clean up the corner in which he was sitting.

Stark.

Stupid billionaire with too much pride.

In the place where Murphy had sat, was $500. In cash.

Delmar slumped to the floor. At least he can get the new Star Wars gummies that Parker was raving about.

Because of this, he never saw Tony grinning from the window, asking Friday where he could send the deli the money he raised last week.

Billionaires.

No. Not billionaires.

Stark.

Chapter Text

Marcus knew who the Avengers were.

That was clear from his reaction to Stark showing up last week.

That being said, there were some that were more known to him than others. That he knew more about.

So when the bell rang and Wanda Maximoff stumbled in, tripping over her feet, Delmar wasn't sure what to do.

He watched her as she leaned against the wall, her face pinching with each step, before stilling.

And staring right at him. Her eyes seemed to be looking right into her soul.

You will not tell a soul about my being here .

Mr. Delmar blinked and stumbled backwards, his head smacking into the deli's light switch.

He glared.

"You tryna read my mind now?"

She had the decency to look away sheepishly.

"No, just a warning," she spoke, her accent (what was it, Russian?) only making her sound more commanding. She seemed slightly disappointed at his assumption.

"I don't usually read the minds of innocents." She added, arms crossed against her red leather jacket.

He rubbed the back of his head, softening his glare.

"Well, you don't have to worry," he replied, "I don't usually tell people who show up to this shop about certain customers."

She studied his face, her eyebrows furrowing in contemplation, before nodding.

Seems like she believed him.

"Alright," she continued, "maybe you could help me out then ."

"Sure, I can do that."

She trekked around the aisles, limping slightly, her hands lightly running through the merchandise as she spoke.

"I need a birthday card, and Elaeagnus shrub…" she pondered for a moment, "and twinkies?" 

She seemed unsure of herself.

Delmar smiled.

"We have birthday cards over there," he pointed at the left corner of the shop where a shelf of celebratory cards sat unwaveringly. "And the twinkies are in the candy section in the middle aisle."

She smiled to herself, muttering.

"What was that?" He questioned.

Wanda looked up at him.

"My brother, Pietro, loves twinkies. I didn't know if they were real." She explained, her smile dropping. " Loved. "

Marcus felt a twinge in his heart. Poor girl.

"I'm sorry for your loss." He consoled.

She scoffed. "Yes, me too."

The store was silent, albeit the small breeze of air fluttering in from the open windows, and the repetitive shuffling coming from Wanda's black combat boots.

He watched her flick through the cards before pointing at one.

It flew upwards into her hands, surrounded by a red glow.

His eyes widened and he resisted the urge to whistle in amusement.

He could still see her limping.

Marcus fiddled with the ring on his finger, opening his mouth only to close it again.

She practically floated towards the candy aisle, crouching and reaching for the twinkies on the back of the lower shelf.

Marcus decided to break the silence.

"We don't have an Elaeagnus shrub, but we do have lithops." He offered.

She stood up, dusting off her black silk skirt, walking towards him slowly but surely.

Wanda tilted her head.

"Lithops? A stone plant?" She asked, raising an eyebrow, a small smile flickering on her face.

Marcus smiled back, nodding.

She sighed.

"How did you know these were for Pietro?"

He bit his lip, looking away.

"The card you picked, it's a card for the deceased. And you chose twinkies, his favourite snack. I came to a conclusion." He explained.

He noticed her blinking back tears, her dark eyes shaky.

"I'd like a lithops plant," she confirmed.

"I'll be right back," he replied before walking away from the register and to a shelf of succulents on his right.

He scanned a couple of succulents before finding the flat, stone shaped one he was looking for.

"Here," he said as he reached out to pick it up. 

He brought it back to the table and started scanning the items.

"Do you need a bag? That's $12.35."

She shook her head and took out the exact amount, slamming it on the table a bit harder than necessary.

"Sorry." She muttered.

"Don't worry about it," Marcus reassured.

He knew he shouldn't pry, but he felt the need to ask.

"Are you hurt?" He asked.

Wanda, who was placing the items in her brown purse startled, dropping the twinkies.

"нет , " she mumbled before lifting the item with her magic... fingers? She blew slightly at the dust coating the back of the package and then added it to her purse.

"What language was that?"

Her expression was stoic.

"Sokovian. That's where I'm from. I was saying no in Russian. I'm fine." She insisted at the end.

"Why are you limping, then?" 

A challenge.

But to his surprise, she simply shrugged.

"Sometimes, because I'm so used to floating around with... magic , it takes me a while to get accustomed to walking again. I try to avoid it in public so I don't scare... citizens ," she explained.

"Huh. I never considered that." He pondered.

She kept staring.

"I should go now," she said as she draped her purse over her shoulders. 

Marcus nodded in understanding.

But she didn't move.

He opened his mouth to speak when she beat him to it.

"What's your name?"

"Delmar. Well, Marcus but people call me Mr. Delmar." He fixed his eyes at Murphy who had suddenly purred, stretching in the corner near his food bowl.

She nodded stiffly before turning and limping towards the door.

"Thank you, Marcus ." 

He grinned.

"No worries, feel free to come back anytime." He hesitated. "And Wanda?" he called out.

Wanda turned to look back at him, her ginger hair flying behind her.

"I hope it gets easier for you."

Her eyes flickered in surprise, then she smiled grimly.

"I hope so too." She spoke, her voice heavy before she walked out.

Marcus watched her leave, then stalked over to Murphy.

"Aren't you a good cat," he cooed, scratching his ears.

Murphy purred in response.

He hoped Wanda would be okay.

He also hoped she liked the twinkies.

He stayed sitting, petting Murphy, the store silent.

The wind kept breezing.

Chapter Text

Kate Bishop just wanted pizza.

She was walking, her red hoodie barely protecting her from the evening chill, when she spotted it.

Delmar's Deli.

She surveyed her surroundings, catching people's judging gaze and some hair salons, but no other decent food chains.

Might as well.

Shrugging, she tugged her ponytail snug before slipping in.

Marcus was restocking sandwich toppings, plastic gloves unfurling and placing tomatoes.

The bell rang.

His head tilted, meeting a girl in some sort of...getup.

He raised an eyebrow.

She just stood there, then as an afterthought, raised a hand and waved.

He smiled.

"So, what's a girl got to do to get some pizza here?"

He glared in response, and she raised a hand in surrender.

"Hey! I'm practicing my right to free speech!"

He rolled his eyes.

"Did you not read the sign?" He refuted. "We are a deli , not a pizzeria. That being said, we have a pepperoni pizza sandwich."

It was her turn to stare.

"Hey kid, not my idea." He shrugged. "The kids that live in the area have weird taste, and it makes money."

She made her way towards the counter, bouncing with each step, surveying the items in the store.

"I guess I can try that, although I'd like to meet the kid who made that up."

“Eh, he’s pretty hard to find, Parker.”

"I bet he also likes pineapple on pizza," she retorted.

Marcus stayed silent, the only sound in the room being the stretching noise of rubber gloves and Murphy meowing. 

Kate rolled her eyes, "You've got to be kidding me! Fruit on pizza?"

"Says the kid wearing a superhero cosplay," he said, grinning.

"One, uncalled for. Two, I'm with Hawkeye! Well, was with Hawkeye- I'm his partner but now he's on hiatus, I think. I should text him, I have his number," she rambled, her arms leaving her sides only to meet at her hair, twirling, knees swishing from side to side. "He said only emergencies but even then I can't reach him. I mean what is the point of a partner if you don't know whether they're still alive!" 

She took a deep breath, and Marcus moved behind the counter, hand grabbing a bread bun as he went through the motions of making a pepperoni pizza sandwich. 

Cut the bread, pizza sauce, mozzarella, pepperoni…

He lifted the cover of the sandwich press and placed the bread on the grill, leaving it to cook.

Sighing, he turned back to his customer.

"So, I only caught the beginning of what you said- Hello?"

The girl in the purple was nowhere to be seen.

All she wanted was a pizza sandwich.

She was so distracted with her rambling that she didn't notice the commotion outside.

Spiderman?

There he was, swinging and dodging a man with bags in his hand.

Probably money.

Well, it is America.

She should help.

She looked back at the man at the counter, thinking.

It'll take a minute. Right?

"Hey Spidey! Need any help?" She yelled, cocking an arrow and steadying her arm.

He looked back at her and laughed.

"You're Hawkeye! Well the other Hawkeye but gosh. I can't believe it I- hey!"

The robber had taken this opportunity to throw a bag at his head, although a futile move, the man had spider senses after all.

Kate stood there, hesitant.

A trick arrow was loaded right now, meaning that if she let it go, the man might be electrocuted. 

Fine.

As she unloaded her bow and dusted herself off, she thought.

Spiderman knows us. This is the best day of my life.

And that's when she saw the bullet sailing towards her, and a blue and red blue tackle her to the ground.

She could feel the air in the street dissipate. Breathing, an automatic reflex, had become foreign and unlearned. 

The world was a blur and her body was buzzing.

It was screaming her name.

Kate! Kate! "KATE!"

Oh.

She gasped as her head tilted, cheek stinging.

As Kate came to, she noticed a wide eyed man looking at her. Well, not a man, man, but a bug.

"Did you slap me?" Kate gaped.

The mask hid most of his features, but those white eyes sure looked apologetic.

"Sorry," he replied sheepishly, "You got knocked out."

Oh. Oh.

She flung her head from side to side surveying her surroundings as Spiderman spoke.

"You don't have to worry about that guy, he's been taken care of."

At that, he pointed at a man near the faraway wall, mouth muffled with webs. All of him covered in webs.

"Huh." 

"So," he looked back at her, scratching his neck, "you okay?"

Kate nodded.

"Yup. Peachy."

"Sure?"

"Sure." She smirked.

Her vision was no longer fuzzy, and she started to take note of Spiderman. For real. The stretchy suit material, heavy breathing, blood.

"You're hurt," she muttered. Then louder.

"You're bleeding!"

He furrowed his brows, looked down, then back up at her.

"Huh. Don't worry about it, my body heals itself."

"Freaky."

"Yup."

"You better not be lying about that," she said, pushing him slightly.

"I wouldn't dare." He responded, voice playful.

"Well," she nodded as she stood up, dusting herself off again. "I've got a pepperoni sandwich to get from Delmar's."

At that, he jumped.

" The pepperoni pizza sandwich?" He squeaked.

"Yes?" She stared, puzzled.

It seems he caught on because he coughed and deepened his voice. Pathetically she should add.

"I just- uh, love that place. Ever since a kid introduced me to it. Yea. Great food."

She burst out laughing.

" Dude. What was that?" She scoffed as she walked back to the store. "That was totally pathetic!" She exclaimed.

"I'm not pathetic!"

"Don't twist my words, you're not pathetic, but that voice change? Totally." She replied as she reached the deli and opened the door.

The bell rang.

The sandwich sat on the counter, cold, untouched.

Marcus looked up with a customer service smile, then scowled.

" You."

There was the kid, dressed in purple, a little worse for wear, and trailing behind her was-

"Spiderman. I know, what is he doing here?" The girl asked mockingly, grinning.

Marcus rolled his eyes in response, reaching to grab an object from next to him.

"Gosh you're a softie! You saved my sandwich!" She laughed, eyes twinkling in delight.

Marcus noticed Spiderman gaping at him.

He furrowed a brow and shrugged, "You alright kid?"

"Yeah!" He squeaked, "you've never saved my sandwiches for me!"

The girl cackled, walking towards the counter to finally pay for her sandwich, watching as Delmar reheated it in the panini press. With each step, Marcus noticed her ponytail swishing.

"Someone's jealous ," she sang, her voice soft but teasing, looking behind her.

"No, I'm not!" A pout.

"Dude, I'm sure this" she looked Delmar up and down- " man can save your sandwich another time!"

"Delmar." Marcus said.

"Delmar," she echoed. "I'm Kate."

They both grinned at each other. 

Marcus finished wrapping the sandwich as the girl dropped change into his hands.

"Don't mind him," Kate added, nodding towards Spiderman who was sitting in defeat, bug eyes flickering and low. She grabbed his arm and he trailed behind her out the store like a lost puppy.

"There there- dang this is good!" Delmar could hear her consoling as the door slammed shut. 

He was too busy racking his brain.

He'd never sold Spiderman a sandwich. 

Had he?

Chapter Text

Bucky wanted plums.

Steve wanted to walk. 

A compromise was made. 

"Stevie, get me those nice ones from Delmars."

Steve raised an eyebrow.

"Is Delmars a grocer?"

Bucky smirked. "I guess you could call it that," he said.

Steve wasn't sure what Bucky was hiding, but he wasn't going to let that stop him from doing something for his friend.

He ran down the stairs, tilting over to slip on his running shoes, slowly double-lacing them.

Shoving his phone into his back pocket, he stood up and made his way out the door.

Time for a walk.

His hands met the doorknob of Delmar's deli . He frowned and opened his Nokia, tilting his head.

Looked at the phone. Looked at the sign.  Phone. Sign. Phone. Sign.

Weird.

He tugged the doorknob and was met with a chiming bell. It sounded like it was dying.

He pulled his cap down and adjusted his glasses.

Raising his eyes, he muttered.

"Why on earth would there be plums here."

A man looked at him, eyes scrunched. He was fed up already.

"Sir, could you help me find…plums?"

"Plums?" The man repeated, grinning to himself (Steve thinks he's probably Delmar that owns this deli).

"Yes, sir."

"You don't need to call me sir, Rogers."

Steve tilted his chin to the side, brows raised.

"I guess my disguise didn't work too well huh," he replied.

"No. Not sure why you all think a cap and sunglasses make you a new person."

" You all ?"

Delmar nodded.

"It may come as a shock to you, but you are not my first rodeo."

"Yea, I didn't think so. My friend sent me here to get him some plums. You sell those, right?" He questioned.

Delmar looked at him, humour devoid of his face.

"James, correct?"

Steve furrowed his brow and nodded.

"How's he doing?"

"He's good…" Steve replied, then hesitated. "Should I be worried?"

Shoot. He doesn't know.

Delmar schooled his expression into one of confusion.

"No, I just haven't seen him in a couple of weeks, and he was a regular. Here, let me get you those plums."

Steve wasn't eager to let the topic slide, but he did need to speed up this interaction.

He walked towards the counter, tapping on his jacket zipper, waiting.

Waiting.

He hears heavy thuds and ruffling.

Still waiting.

He watches an ant walk from one end of the bodega to another.

Still waiting.

Steve closes his eyes and runs his hands through his hair.

I guess he's doing this.

He makes his way to the back of the counter and-

" What. Do you think you're doing?"

He swivelled towards the voice. Delmar is standing there, holding a bag. Make that two. One has plums, the other has- well that's not important, is it? Delmar is glaring, eyes flaring.

Steve puts an arm out.

"I can explain," is what he comes up with.

Delmar waited.

"I didn't actually think you'd let me explain myself," he admitted, rubbing his neck and grinning sheepishly.

Silence.

"I got…worried." 

Delmar raised an eyebrow.

"Oh. Well, I'm glad you weren't robbing my counter."

Steve gaped. "Of course not! Why would I do that?"

"Now that I think about it, I'm not sure. I just thought it was an unspoken rule not to go behind my counter."

"Sorry," Steve said.

Delmar sighed. "No worries. Here," he added, hand reaching out, bags swinging. "This is your plums. Tell James I expect to see him soon."

Steve frowned. "What for?"

"What, a man can't want to see a customer?"

"No, no!" Steve exclaimed, raising his hands, "of course not! I just," he shrugged. "I noticed when we finally found him that there was something…wrong. He was secretive, always hiding somewhere. I want to know if that is going on again."

Steve ran his hands through his hair. "I need to know if that is going on again."

Delmar bit his lip and tapped his fingers on the bag still nestled between his fingers.

"I'm not sure. When he first showed up, something was off and I tried to help." He met his customer's eyes. "If that is happening again, I would not know. He doesn't show up here as much. Maybe that's a good sign. Means he's getting better. Maybe." He tacked on the word as a last resort.

Steve's stare intensified, hands but Delmar noted a tremor stemming from his pockets, where his hand was tucked.

"What do you mean- by getting better? Do you know something I don't?"

Delmar shook his head, sighing. "I don't go around spilling customers' business. It's bad for well, business . And honestly, I think if you talk to him, he might open up. Really depends on the circumstances. You say he’s your best friend, I'm sure if he's not being honest it's only because he thinks he might lose that. You gotta show him that he won't.”

Steve stood in silence, the only clue that he heard him was a furrowed brow, stuck in thought.

"Okay," he said.

"Okay?" Delmar repeated.

Steve reached for the bags in Delmar's now semi-raised hands, seemingly in defeat.

"How much?"

"Let's see. How about $10?"

"For a pound of plums?"

Delmar nodded.

"Plus 3 dollars for your almost robbery. $13."

Steve looked up and squinted.

"You're…serious?"

Delmar brushed an arm away.

"Of course not. So, how'd you like to pay?"

"Credit?"

"Go ahead."

When Steve had done just that, he nodded towards the other bag.

"This is for Buck, right?"

"Yup."

"And I can't know what it is?"

Delmar shook his head, expressionless now.

Steve sighed.

"I understand. Nice to finally meet you, sir?"

"Marcus."

"Marcus." Steve nodded to himself.

He walked out the door, The bag with plums felt lighter than the other. 

James didn't know why anyone would give him anything. Especially not for free? Out of the goodness of their heart? Please.

But it was right there.

A pack of bandaids and disinfectant. Electrolytes in the form of something called Gatorade.

And a note.

I hope you don't need to use these, but you haven't shown up in a while, thought I'd give you a first-aid kit.

-Delmar

Stupid. But here he was, tears threatening to leave his eyes. He looked at his arms, what once was blotched red was white and healed.

Maybe he should talk to Steve.